Hearth and Home
by Suilven
Summary: Post-IWTB. Scully and Mulder prepare for Christmas, cherishing the chance to move forward out of the darkness of the past and into the light.


_Written for SerahSanguine for the X-Files Secret Santa FIc Exchange (2019). I hope you like it! Super duper mega hugs to OnlyTheInevitable for organizing!_

* * *

The gravel crunched underneath the car's tires as Scully turned onto the side road that led to the unremarkable house, and it was an effort to keep her eyes open. It had been a grueling few weeks at the hospital, with long shifts and a series of challenging cases. She hadn't been home in several days, snatching sleep when she could on the cot in the break room, and had scarcely talked to Mulder aside from a handful of hurried phone calls. She was off now for the stretch of days between Christmas and New Year's, and she was looking forward to the much needed downtime.

She hoped that Mulder hadn't gotten into too much trouble while she'd been preoccupied with work. While he seemed more relaxed now that they no longer had to worry about the FBI finding them, that nervous energy sometimes led him spiralling inward. It worried her a little, a faint scratching of pinprick kitten claws at the back of her subconscious, but she was sure it would pass once he found his footing again. Things were bound to be unsettled for awhile after everything they'd been through.

Fighting back a yawn, she held a gloved hand to her face to cover her mouth. Almost home. It was late enough that she wasn't too worried about deer, but she scanned the sides of the road up ahead for the ghostly gleam of eyes, just in case. Mulder had clipped one last winter, thankfully only damaging the driver's side mirror, but it had made them both a little more careful.

Coming around the final bend, the house came into view at last, and she was surprised by the sight of multi-coloured lights along the windows, the roof line, the porch. Even a few of the bigger conifers were sporting strands of twinkling lights, making the house and yard look festive and welcoming.

"Oh, Mulder…" There was a lump forming in her throat as she pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine. They'd never had Christmas lights before, preferring to stay in the shadows, unseen, and this was almost too much.

She impatiently grabbed her bag full of scrubs to be washed, her purse, and her briefcase out of the back seat and headed for the front door. The snow had been cleared from the path up to the porch and handfuls of sand had been spread across the steps to keep them from getting too slippery. She ran her fingers over the strand of lights that had been twined around the railing appreciatively, wanting to linger, but wanting — needing — to see Mulder far too much to wait.

As she was rummaging in her purse to find her keys, the door swung open to reveal a rumpled looking Mulder in red plaid pyjama pants and a soft grey t-shirt. He hadn't shaved in at least a day, his cheeks and jawline covered in prickly scruff.

It felt like it had been months apart, not mere days, and she wanted to glut herself on the sight of him, gorging and restoring the pinched and hungry hollows around her bones, and then burrow into his embrace and not emerge until spring.

"Hey," he said warmly. "Thought I heard my wife's car pull up." The corners of his mouth quirked up at the word 'wife'. It was still new, and she loved hearing it as much as he enjoyed saying it.

No more waiting. She was home for the next nine days with explicit instructions from the team to _not_ check in at hospital, and she was going to make the most of them.

Dropping her bags where she stood, she launched herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and breathing the scent of him deep into her lungs. "Mulder."

He enfolded her in his arms as she let herself sink into the blissful solidity of his body. "Did you miss me?"

She laughed against his chest before lifting her head. "You have no idea how much."

"Mmmm… I'm pretty sure I do." He leaned down to capture her lips, kissing her slowly. "It's been far too quiet around here."

"It looks like you've been busy," she murmured against his mouth, pausing to kiss him more deeply. "The lights are beautiful. And I love them."

He pulled back reluctantly, trailing a finger down her cheek. "I'm glad you like them. Just wait until you see the inside."

"Show me," she said softly.

Nodding, he leaned down to pick up her briefcase and the bag she had dropped before taking her hand and urging her inside. "Close your eyes," he murmured into her ear.

"Mulder…"

"Humour me." He brushed the shell of her ear with his lips and she shivered.

"Okay."

Closing her eyes, she stood in the front entranceway as he took his time unwinding the red scarf from around her throat, unbuttoning her coat and helping her out of it, and then leaving her with a soft, "Stay here," along with a kiss on the tip of her nose while he hung everything up.

It was hard to stay patient when she knew he was deliberately dragging this out, teasing her, making her wait.

"Ready?" he said at last, and she nodded.

He took both her hands this time, leading her through the kitchen towards the living room, guiding her carefully to the couch, where he instructed her to sit.

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"Not yet. One more thing first."

She heard his footsteps head in the direction of the kitchen as she leaned back into the plush cushions of the couch. It felt heavenly; so amazingly good to simply be _home_. From the warmth radiating from in front of her and the pleasant crackling sound, she already knew that Mulder had lit a fire—one of her must-haves for a cold winter's night. The scent of fresh pine was present, too, and she had a strong suspicion as to what Mulder's surprise must be. She sighed contentedly, letting her head fall back.

The microwave beeped. The fridge door opened and closed. And she was halfway into dreams already by the time he came back, setting something down on the coffee table in front of her before leaning over to kiss her. "Don't fall asleep on me yet, Doc."

She hummed contentedly. "I'll do my best. No promises."

"Then open your eyes."

As she'd guessed, a Christmas tree was set up next to the fireplace, covered in glowing lights in a rainbow of colours as well as a shimmering silver garland. At the base of it were two small cardboard boxes that she knew contained the ornaments that her mother had stored for them while they'd been on the run.

But that wasn't all.

On the top of the fireplace mantle, white felt fabric was draped to look like a snow-covered landscape, and a village of small buildings, all lit from within, had been arranged on top: a church with delicate stained glass windows; a post office; a toy store; a glossy frozen pond with tiny skaters that twirled and spun. On either end of the mantle, hanging from identical brass hooks, were two stockings with embroidered tops that read "Mulder" on one and "Scully" on the other. Both had a sparkly green alien in a Santa hat sitting in an open top UFO, with red lights along the sides of the UFO that actually worked, blinking on and off.

Along the walls, just below the ceiling, strings of lights that matched the ones outside had been hung up to trace around the upper edges of the living room, the hallway, and even the kitchen, casting the house in a fairy-like glow. It was positively magical.

On a side table in the corner of the living room, was the nativity set she remembered from her childhood; the camel with the funny overbite and the shepherd with the broken head that had been re-glued more times than she could count. The set she had been constantly reprimanded from playing with — _"It's not a toy, Dana"_ — not that that had stopped her from getting up before everyone else was awake so she could rearrange the animals and wise men to her heart's content. Besides, it had been Charlie who had replaced the baby Jesus with a pink jellybean that one year, not her.

How had Mulder gotten it here? She looked at him in wonder, but he just shrugged, giving her the same _who-me_ grin he'd given her after the New Year's kiss that would be forever imprinted in her memory for so many reasons.

"So, how did I do?"

She could inexplicably feel tears gathering in her eyes, her words damp with them like dew when she could finally speak. "It's perfect."

"Good. Why don't you eat, and then we can decorate the tree if you feel up to it. I can do it if you're too tired, but I wanted to wait for you." He gestured at the coffee table where he'd set down a re-heated plate of lemon pepper chicken with a side of broccoli and a glass of white wine.

At the sight of the food, her stomach gave an enthusiastic grumble, and they both laughed. "I didn't realize how hungry I was."

She picked up the plate and began to eat, making an effort not to eat too quickly. She was ravenous and it tasted wonderful. Mulder's cooking had improved tremendously over the past year — something she knew he was proud of — although he was still a disaster when it came to baking. He wasn't a fan of measuring or following the recipe's instructions exactly, which sometimes meant that the bread inexplicably didn't rise or the cake was well-done on the outside but still liquid in the center.

As she ate, he opened the ornament boxes and removed the protective layers of newspaper that surrounded the more delicate ones before plopping down next to her with his own glass of wine to wait until she was finished.

"You know, I never thought I would see the day when you would eat broccoli willingly, never mind actually choose to _cook_ it and _eat_ it," she said, spearing the last remaining floret with her fork and then chewing on it thoughtfully.

"Maybe you're a good influence."

Scully snorted and rolled her eyes.

"What?" He set his wine glass down and leaned in close to her, nudging her with his shoulder playfully. "You don't think so?"

She stretched out to put the empty plate on the coffee table and then leaned back into his embrace as he slung his arm around her shoulder. She tilted her head back so she could look at him. "You know what I think?"

"Enlighten me."

"I think," she turned in his arms and shifted herself until she was straddling him, "that I would prefer to be a bad influence." Winding her arms around his neck, she kissed him slowly, catching his bottom lip with her teeth and pinching it ever so slightly. His breath hitched, as it always did when she performed that particular move, and she felt the familiarity of it expand inside of her, sending heat flooding downward as she deepened the kiss.

"What about the tree?" he asked between open-mouthed kisses and scrapes of teeth down the column of her neck.

Her fingers were in his hair and she tightened her grip enough to pull his head back, hard enough to sting, but not to cause any real hurt; the way she knew she liked it, and he did, too, as evidenced by his sudden gasp. His pupils were wide and dark with desire. She held them there on the edge for a moment, relishing the anticipation of giving in, but forcing herself to hold back. Her breath was coming in shallow gulps already. "The tree," she enunciated each word slowly and carefully, feeling the flames inside of her spreading, out of control like wildfire, "can wait."

"I like it when you're a bad influence." His hands slid down to grip her hips, pulling her more firmly against him. He was hard already, and she rolled her hips against him, feeling sparks of pleasure as she ground down. They were both pent up from being apart, and she knew she wasn't likely to last long, but she still wanted to draw it out, to make it last. "You sure you're not too tired?" One hand moved to slide beneath her shirt, and she sighed happily as he found her nipple through her bra, rolling and pinching it expertly between his fingers.

"I'm exhausted. But I don't care. I need you more than sleep." She slanted her mouth against his roughly, not wanting gentle, not tonight, and thankfully he could read her mood as well as he always did, returning her kiss with a bruising fierceness. His fingers were continuing to work at her nipple, sending increasing waves of arousal through her body. She could feel the wetness between her legs as she rocked against his erection, wanting more but powerless to stop what they were doing right now in the almost frantic desire to chase what was already blossoming in her core.

A cry actually escaped her when Mulder released her mouth with a near growl. "Shirt off. Now."

It wasn't always this frantic and out of control — Mulder delighted in teasing her until she couldn't stand it, begging unashamedly for release, and she knew he loved to watch her come as many times as he could before she was too overstimulated to take any more — but, if she were completely honest with herself, this was what she liked most of all; the only time she could completely lose herself, to be free from the confines of her own mind, from the constraints of what she _should_ do, what she _should_ feel, how she _should_ behave. It was cathartic, a rebirth from the ashes that she so desperately needed.

She'd barely pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside before Mulder was on her again, unable to wait any longer, tugging the cups of her bra down and immediately latching on to the other nipple, suckling and biting. His skin was searing against her own as she pressed her mouth to any spot she could reach. He groaned against her breast as she bit down on the sensitive spot where his shoulder met his neck before soothing where she had bitten with firm strokes of her tongue.

"Take your pants off. Need you inside me." She punctuated her words with more bites and licks. He would have bruises in the morning. She hoped she would, too. "Need to feel you."

He pulled back from ravishing her breast, the areola and nipple on that side engorged and purplish red from his ministrations. He was panting, and it turned her on even more to know he was just as overcome as she was. It had never been like this with anyone else. Never.

He licked his lips. "Say, please."

Her chin raised defiantly as she struggled to suck air into her lungs. Her thighs were already slick with how much she wanted this. "Make me."

"Oh, fuck, Scully…" With a quick twist, he had her flat on her back on the couch, her wrists pinned above her head.

She couldn't help it — she let out a low moan, her eyes fluttering shut with pleasure. All she had to do was let go and he would catch her.

He straddled her, angling his pelvis against hers, and gave a hard thrust, enough that she saw stars as she moaned again. "Say, please."

She shook her head back and forth, strands of her hair catching on her lips. "No."

With a growl, he seized her wrists in one hand, using the other to roughly drag her pants and underwear down to her knees. He couldn't get them the rest of the way off without letting go, so she kicked them off the rest of the way herself as Mulder used his free hand to quickly shed his own.

He looked beautiful against the light of the fire, golden-skinned and lean and muscular. "God, you're gorgeous," she murmured, her eyes devouring him appreciatively.

"I could say the same to you." He grinned. "Sit up," he said, with a tug on her hands to indicate what he wanted. "Sit so you're right on the edge."

He knelt down in front of her as she sat up and inched forward, allowing her legs to drop open so he could kneel comfortably between them. The couch was the perfect height — something they'd figured out quite quickly after its purchase — for this position.

"Mmmm… you're so wet." Mulder ran a finger through her folds appreciatively, making her shudder each time he brushed lightly across her clit. Her hands had unconsciously dropped to her own breasts, kneading and pulling. He watched her for a moment, his breath quickening. "Lean back. Hands above your head."

"Not yet." Her pelvis bucked up, chasing his fingers as he withdrew them. "I want to see."

This was her favourite thing about this position, that she could watch as he entered her, although it was always a difficult choice between seeing the look of arousal and relief in his face or the unparalleled sight as he buried himself inside her as deeply as he could go.

Mulder grabbed his cock at the base, fluid already leaking from the tip as he slid it deliberately down the length of her sex.

"More," she moaned softly. He was so close and yet not inside her and it was almost unbearable.

He leaned in, the silken heat of him pressing against her, to pull her lower lip between his teeth before whispering, "Say, please."

"God, please—"

The word was barely out of her mouth when he slammed into her, filling her up and sending a white hot shock of utter pleasure through her entire body. Her back arched toward him as he tenderly took her wrists once more and positioned her hands above her head. "Keep them there or I stop."

She managed a nod, he hadn't moved again since entering her, and he waited until she was able to open her eyes.

"Look down."

Again, he waited until he could see her watching, looking down at where they were joined. With an aching slowness, he pulled nearly out of her — she could see the slick of their combined arousal coating his length — and then he pushed back in, equally slowly, the tendons in his neck tense with the effort of holding back.

It was hard to keep her hands still, wanting nothing more than to press her fingers against her throbbing clit and bring herself some relief, yet at the same time she never wanted it to stop. She would stay here, suspended in this transcendent state of being and not being, as he patiently continued to stroke in and out of her at the same maddeningly slow pace.

A bead of sweat trailed from his hairline and down his jaw, and she licked her lips, wishing she could taste it. Sparks were licking up the inside of her veins, but release was just out of her grasp, cresting from one wave to the next but never quite reaching the shore.

"Mulder…" She might have whimpered, but it didn't matter. She needed more, needed it now.

"Oh, Scully…" The tension drained from his shoulders as he allowed himself to give in, thrusting into her with long, hard strokes.

Her eyes slammed shut as his thumb pressed against her clit in tight circles. "Like that. Just like that. Don't stop." She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in deeper. "I'm so close."

"Come for me. I want to see you." His words broke off with a strangled groan. "So beautiful. Wanna feel you."

She was on the edge and then she was falling, her hands coming up to grab his head and bring her mouth to his, kissing him ferociously as shudders of pleasure wracked her body. He followed right behind her, spilling into her with groan against her lips.

* * *

"So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Her eyes were closed, her head nestled on Mulder's chest as he traced languid circles on her shoulder. It was warm and cozy on the blanket in front of the fireplace, like sinking into a hot bath.

"You mean after we decorate the tree?" His voice rumbled with amusement beneath her cheek.

"Mmm."

"Well, I invited your mom and the Skin-man over for dinner — hopefully, that's okay. I thought we could do Christmas Eve here, so we could have Christmas morning for just the two of us. You've been working long hours lately and I miss you." He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and she tried to ignore the twinge of guilt that prickled in her gut. He deserved a chance to move forward, too; to find a new purpose that would make him feel challenged and needed. He'd been cooped up in this house for far too long and it wasn't fair.

"Christmas Eve dinner sounds nice. Do we need to go to the grocery store tomorrow?"

He shook his head. "Got it covered. I've already picked up everything we need; we just need to make it."

"You're too good at this."

"I try."

The logs in the fireplace cracked and popped as they shifted, more dull orange embers than logs now.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

She raised her head, resting her chin on the back of her hand so she could see his face. "Are you happy?"

His brow furrowed. "With you? How could you even need to ask that?"

"No, not just with me. With everything. Being here, spending so much time alone. Me working again and being so busy at the hospital." She sighed, rubbing her toes along the back of his calf. "We were living on adrenaline for such a long time, never staying in one place, that this all still feels surreal sometimes. Like I'm going to wake up in a random motel room in some random town and this will have all been a dream."

Mulder smoothed a wayward curl of hair back behind her ear, his fingers lingering down her jaw line. "I think it would be impossible to not feel restless after moving around so much, but I _do_ like this; having a proper home, being able to finally call you my wife… it's more than I could have ever hoped for."

She leaned in and kissed him softly. "I know. Me, too." She didn't know how to put it into words, this niggling sense of disquiet.

"I've found some new research to keep me occupied, started putting some files together in the office. Trust me, I'm far from bored." He gave her a wink. "You're lucky I was able to pull myself away to get all the Christmas decorations up."

"You'll let me know if you need something more though? If it ever feels like this isn't enough?"

"I promise. Now, why don't you head upstairs and tuck yourself into bed — don't think I haven't seen those last two yawns — while I put the fire out."

She really was too tired to put up much of a fight. "All right. Don't take too long."

Cradling her head, he gently kissed her forehead. "I won't. I'll be right up. Go get some sleep."

* * *

She awoke to the bright sunlight of late morning streaming in through the windows and the smell of something burning. Blinking sleepily, she was instantly up and out of bed on instinct alone, half surprised to find herself in her bedroom at home and not in the pseudo-closet that served as a respite room at the hospital. She tossed on a pair of leggings and one of Mulder's t-shirts and headed downstairs, not sure what to expect.

The kitchen was a certifiable disaster zone.

Flour was everywhere — the floor, the counters, even in Mulder's hair, as he had his back to her. Bowls, measuring cups and spoons, oven mitts, and cookie sheets were piled in the sink and scattered haphazardly across the countertop. On a cooling tray on the table were a selection of misshapen, charred humanoid-like figures.

"What am I doing wrong?" Mulder was muttering under his breath as he bent down to peer into the oven.

"I thought we had agreed on the 'no cryptids' rule when it came to holiday baking."

"Scully, I didn't hear you get u—ow!" He turned toward her and stood up, smacking his head into the open cupboard door above him. "Son of a…" he yelped, dropping the spatula he was holding and clutching the top of his head instead.

"Here, let me see." She stepped towards him with a smile. "Nice to know some things never change."

"Ha ha, Scully. You're a riot."

He winced as she pressed and prodded at the spot, running her fingers over his scalp. "You know, considering this was the only type of physical intimacy we had for years, you'd think you would still appreciate it." She finished her examination and gave him a serious look. "I think you're going to pull through this one, although you might have a bump. A tiny one."

"You think you're so funny."

"No, I _know_ I'm funny."

"That's it. You asked for it." He tugged her into his arms and rubbed his scratchy face against her neck, making her giggle and try to pull away. "Nope. Scratchy beard. Deal with it."

She was full on laughing as he went for her sides with his hands, finding the most ticklish spot along her ribs. "No fair!"

"Never claimed to be fair," he replied, pushing his jaw further into her neck while peppering the skin with kisses at the same time.

She twisted away from him, sliding her hand down over the front of his pajama pants to cup him gently, stroking him as she felt him twitch and begin to harden. He gave a pleased groan as he stopped tickling her and pushed himself against the ministrations of her hand. "Hey, now who's not being fair."

Grinning up at him, she pinched her bottom lip between her teeth impishly. "All's fair in love and war, remember?" Inching up on her tiptoes, she kissed him languorously, tasting gingerbread on his tongue when it swept into her mouth. He was fully hard now as she continued to stroke him from root to tip in sync with their hungry kisses.

A sudden loud buzzing noise jolted them apart.

"The cookies," Mulder mumbled with an apologetic shrug as he searched around for an oven mitt. "Hold that thought."

Oven mitt successfully located, he opened the door to an acrid cloud of grey smoke, which he waved away with a cough before pulling the pan from within and setting it on top of the stove. "Dammit, I think these ones are even worse than the last batch. I don't get it."

Scully wrapped her arms around him from behind as he stared forlornly at his ersatz cookies. "I think you could use a nice shower and a shave — as much as I like you scruffy — and then we'll tackle the gingerbread again. Together. And preferably after some coffee."

"Just coffee?" He turned around and slid his hands around to cup her ass, pulling her against him.

She blinked at him in mock innocence. "Did you have something else in mind?"

Her laughter rang out through the house as he chased her all the way back upstairs.

* * *

After a more leisurely carnal exploration than the night before, they showered and made their way back downstairs to tackle the catastrophe in the kitchen. While Mulder did the dishes and disposed of the remains of his first attempt at gingerbread men, Scully made a fresh batch of dough and put it in the refrigerator to chill. Together, they peeled sweet potatoes and prepped the green bean casserole that had been a Scully family staple for more years than she could recall. Mulder had bought a ham rather than a turkey, so it would only need an hour or so to reheat, and they could cook the side dishes at the same time.

When the dough was chilled to Scully's satisfaction, Mulder rolled and cut out a veritable army of gingerbread men while she ferried their creations from the table to the oven to the cooling racks on the table. The house was filled with the sweet spicy aroma of warm gingerbread, so inexplicably tied to the memories of her and Missy and Bill and Charlie crowded around the kitchen table, elbows jostling as they passed around bowls of icing and gumdrops and fought over the diminishing pile of undecorated cookies on the plate in the center of the table.

Now, it was just her and Mulder, but the feeling was oddly similar. There was no icing or candy to quarrel over — they each had their own piping bag filled with royal icing and had decided to forego the gumdrops, as they didn't taste like much of anything and just got stuck in your teeth. Instead, Mulder gave his gingerbread men three eyes or one cyclopean monstrosity or globby messes he claimed were eye stalks or tentacles, trying to make her laugh, and, in response, she'd rubbed icing in his hair.

It _was_ surreal.

She felt loose and relaxed — the generous dollop of Bailey's that Mulder had added to both of their coffee mugs certainly hadn't hurt — and, although she was almost afraid to bring the thought into being for fear of jinxing it: _she_ was happy. They'd moved past the shadows and into the light, where the only monsters were the carbonized ginger and nutmeg mutants in the garbage bin under the sink. It was a welcome change from the past few years.

When they'd finished, they had to shower — again — as the initial act of icing aggression had escalated into all out war, not that she was complaining. Mulder had used his mouth in a most gentlemanly fashion to make sure that she was both clean and satisfied — not that there had been any icing _there_ although she wasn't about to correct him— and then had taken her hard and fast against the wall of the shower until she had an orgasm that actually made her unable to see for a minute.

It was sheer dumb luck, but they managed to have dinner ready and look presentably like Mulder hadn't been fucking her senseless less than an hour before, when her mom and Skinner arrived on their doorstep.

* * *

"So, you two drove out together?" Scully asked her mom as she moved around the table filling wineglasses. Mulder was bringing in the food, hot from the oven, setting each dish down on wrought iron trivets.

Maggie nodded, moving the red cloth napkin from her plate to her spread it across her lap. "Yes, Walter kindly offered to drive so I could leave my car for Bill and Tara and the kids. They're going to her aunt's tonight so they can be at our place for Christmas morning."

"It's a shame they couldn't be here tonight, too," Mulder said, perfect innocence in his voice. Scully covered her snort with cough.

"The place looks good," Skinner said, looking around. "You've done some more renovations since I was last here."

"Mulder did most of it," Scully answered. "He patched up the drywall in the entrance, repainted most of the rooms on the main floor, and fixed the leak under the kitchen sink." She sat down at the table across from her mother and grinned at Mulder, who had begun to carve the ham into thick slices.

"What can I say?" He shrugged and returned her smile. "Gotta keep myself busy somehow."

They chatted comfortably as they ate, an easy flow of wine and conversation and merriment. Maggie shared stories of Scully as a child that were simultaneously adorable and slightly embarrassing, but luckily Skinner had a few anecdotes about Mulder that she hadn't heard before, like an apparent mishap with an ink photocopier cartridge right before a budget meeting with top management.

After dinner, they moved to the living room where Mulder started a fire in the fireplace and Scully brought everyone mugs of hot tea along with a selection of both mundane and otherworldly gingerbread men for them all to snack on.

"These are really good," Skinner remarked, snapping off a limb and popping it into his mouth. "I can't believe I'm still eating after all that food."

Mulder put his arm around Scully and squeezed her close. "Thank Scully. And be grateful you didn't have to eat the ones I made."

Scully turned to her mom and smiled. "You should thank my mom. It's her recipe."

"It's nice to see these things carrying forward, to know they won't be forgotten. It doesn't feel like Christmas to me without them." Maggie set her half-eaten cookie down on her napkin and took a sip of her tea, looking over at the pair of them. "I'm glad we got to spend this time together and that the two of you look so happy. If anyone deserves some happiness, it's you two."

"I'll drink to that," Skinner said emphatically, raising his mug in their direction. "To happiness."

"To happiness," they echoed, each taking a swallow from their respective cups.

There was more tea, more cookies, more laughter, and eventually Skinner and Maggie were shrugging on their coats and hugging Mulder and Scully good-bye, their breath clouding into ghostly plumes in the crisp winter air.

They stood and watched, waving, as the car drove off into the distance and the steady beams of its headlights were swallowed up by the darkness.

* * *

"Hey, Scully?"

"Hmm?"

She was spooned in Mulder's arms on the couch beneath an old knit afghan; both of them drowsy and full of good food, and she was overcome with a profound sense of peace and contentment.

"We still haven't decorated the tree," he said with a quiet chuckle.

With a soft laugh, she rolled to face him, taking his face in her hands. She stroked the planes of his cheeks and jaw with her thumbs carefully and deliberately before closing the distance and kissing him tenderly. "The tree can wait. I have everything I want right here."

* * *

_Thank you to my beta, the always amazing Josie Lange, for whacking this around with her beta stick!_


End file.
